"Understand what you like. Aha! I've done it," cried Bobby in triumph.
Smithson rose with dignity and bowed to his hostess. "Pardon me, Mrs. Hammond," he declared with dignity. "But words have just now been said in this room which no gentleman could pass. An insult has been offered to your charming daughter. Ahem! Mr. Collins, in the name of Miss Hammond, I demand satisfaction."
The table was in an uproar. Muriel, blushing but amused, looked along a line of laughing faces to her mother.
"A duel, a duel!" shouted Captain Lowcroft. "Pistols for two and coffee for one on the Hangman's Heath in the morning."
Bobby Collins, very round and solemn, arose and faced Smithson across Muriel's dark head.
"A plague upon your mornings, sir. I will fight now, with oranges, upon the lawn. And it shall be to the death."
"Outside with you then, for goodness' sake," cried Mrs. Hammond. "Remember my china!"
They trooped outside together.
The September night was warm and still. A great harvest moon hung low above the elm trees. The windows, carefully curtained by order of the government, left the house mute and dark, but white moonlight lay along the level lawn, and moonlight touched the laughing, running figures.
There was madness in the air. Even Muriel, as she stood on the steps with Lady Grainger and her mother, felt the excitement, and laughed with them. She watched the figures on the lawn, moving out of the black shadows of the elm trees into the white field of moonlight. She watched young Staines and Captain Lowcroft separate the antagonists, measure sedately the paces between them, and supply them with their ammunition. Quick words of command rang out. A handkerchief fluttered down, silver-white in the moonlight. The fruit flew, the oranges glittering like golden metal.